


Losing Sleep

by kaiface



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiface/pseuds/kaiface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wouldn't mind the nightmares, if it didn't mean losing sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I am so abashed right now! First time writing a TW fic and it has to be for one of the rarest rarepairs in the fandom. While I'm sick. Great. :| Well, I hope those of you who read the other 8 Peter/Isaac fics on here enjoy this, and, uh...I hope it isn't as crappy as my illness-ridden mind seems to think.
> 
> That's all I've got.

He wouldn't mind the nightmares, if it didn't mean losing sleep.

He tells Derek, Scott, or anyone who asks that he's fine, he's not having nightmares, just trouble falling asleep at night. No one is convinced, but no one pushes him on it, challenges him, argues with him. They figure he needs to suffer it out on his own. Isaac isn't sure if they're right.

The first time in a long time that he has one of his nightmares, he wakes up silently. Not screaming, or breathing hard, or even stirring in his sleep. The most he had moved, it seemed, was to pull his pillow into a tight grip, hugging it to his chest, claws puncturing the sides. He could already feel the tears drying on his face, his heartbeat slowing back down to a normal pace.

And he could hear his Alpha in the next room, awakened by his discomfort, the sound of his heart rate increasing, the mild feelings of terror and dread he must have felt. Derek had woken up, but he hadn't come to him; in a way, he appreciated that. He didn't want the other man to see him cry.

The second time, a few nights later, he wakes up again gripping his pillow in a grip so tight that it could be considered deadly, claws puncturing the fabric in new places, stuffing coming out of the old holes. He readjusts, wipes his cheeks, and pretends he can't hear Derek and Peter talking about him in the next room.

“-need to do something about it-”  
“-leave him a lone...needs to work through his on his own-”

It's the sound of their heartbeats that finally lulls him back to sleep.

A few weeks later, Isaac wakes up to find his pillow nearly shredded in his grip. The stuffing is coming out of multiple holes and gashes, little bits stuck to the drying tears on his cheeks, more spread around the room. He tries to stuff what he can back in, vows to buy a new pillowcase on his way home from school, and puts the dream out of his mind.

When he gets home that night, backpack and lacrosse bag slung over his shoulder, a single shopping bag in the other hand, he finds that his pillow has been repaired. All of the gashes and holes expertly sewn back up, the stitches made in red thread creating the effect of scars covering the broken pillow. It smells like Peter, and Isaac sits on the edge of his bed for a long time, just holding it.

By the time he's finished his homework, eaten dinner, taken a shower, and is ready for bed, the other Beta's smell on his pillow hasn't faded. Instead of discomforting him, though, he thinks maybe it helps a little as he lays his head down on it and falls fast asleep.

This time he wakes up to a better dream, one about his mom, and his dad, before he started abusing them. Isaac feels the tears again, notes the new punctures in his pillow, and senses the presence in hall just outside his room. He rolls over and closes his eyes, forces himself back to sleep. He doesn't notice when the presence retreats back into it's own room across the hall.

When Isaac sees Peter at the table the next morning, he avoids making eye contact. Just mutters a quiet “thanks” as he brushes past him on his way to the toaster. He can feel Derek's critical gaze surveying them both, but the Alpha doesn't say anything as Peter sips his coffee, feigning ignorance.

When Isaac's dreams wake him up that night, he forgoes sleep and leaves his room, padding quietly down into the living room. He picks a book off of the shelf – one of Boyd's – and begins reading. He ignores Peter when he appears in the doorway, watching him; ignores him when he picks a book off the shelf and joins him on the couch. Isaac finally looks over when Peter laughs, just a quiet puff of air, and Isaac half-closes his book, marking his place with one finger as he looks up at the other Beta.

“What?” he asks quietly, almost afraid to break the silence. Peter shakes his head and continues reading. Isaac barely gets his book open before Peter laughs again, and this time Isaac slams the book shut, looking at the other man with wide-eyed, fearful irritation. “What is it?”

Peter shakes his head, smirking just a bit, but stays otherwise silent. Isaac watches him, admires the way the morning light filtering in through the shutters seems to caress his face, and realizes only a few moments later what he's seeing: daylight.

With a quiet yelp, Isaac is off the couch faster than he's ever moved in his life, upstairs and getting ready for school. Peter is still seated on the couch, book in hands as Isaac dashes past him and out the front door, heading to the Camaro; Derek follows him a moment later, looking suspiciously at Peter for just a moment before exiting after the teen, slamming the door shut behind himself.

When Isaac gets home that night – more lacrosse practice, then a not-really-productive study session with Scott and Stiles – he skips dinner, and heads straight for bed, exhausted from not sleeping the night before. He finds that the new rips in his pillow have been repaired again, with the same red thread. If it smelled like Peter before, the smell was nearly overpowering now, and Isaac wondered not a little bit suspiciously if the man had done something else to it other than just repair it. Too tired to care, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

That night, the dreams are vivid and harsh – torn and bloody fingernails, scraping at the inside of the freezer, throat raw and voice hoarse from screaming, screaming, screaming – and Isaac wakes up with a scream caught in his throat, pillow shredded, claw marks in the mattress, and tears streaking down his face.

He's gasping for breath when Peter enters the room, and Isaac throws the pillow at him weakly, choking out a weak, “Go away,” but there's no feeling in it. Peter sits at the edge of Isaac's bed silently, watching him, and Isaac tries to choke back more tears, tries to reign himself in, but all he can hear is the wild beating of his own heart, the strangled, erratic sobbing. The older man makes a soft “tut” noise with his mouth, wraps and arm around Isaac's shoulders and pulls him upright, forcing the teen to lean on him. Isaac's face is buried in the crook of Peter's neck, wetting his skin with tears, and he's drawing in deep breaths full of Peter's scent. There's a hand at his back, warm, rubbing in small, gentle circles, and all he can hear now is Peter's slow, even heartbeat, the hiss of breath accompanied with each soft shushing noise.

When Isaac finally stops crying, he pulls away slowly, realizes his claws have been digging into Peter's arms. “God, I'm sorry, I-”

“I've had worse,” the older man cuts him off, with a quirk of his mouth that almost resembles a smile in the darkness. Isaac peels himself off of the man completely, sheepish and embarrassed, and as he moves to lay back down, realizes that he threw his ruined pillow across the room. He looks at it and whimpers, which just makes Peter laugh, really throw his head back and laugh, and Isaac feels a mix of pride and embarrassment wash over him.

“Stay put, pup,” the older man tells him, as if Isaac had really intended to go anywhere, and he grabs the shredded pillow as he leaves the room. Isaac lays his head down on the mattress, watching the doorway for a solid minute before Peter returns with not one, but two rather plush looking pillows, and a blanket. He hands one of the pillows to the teen, then lays the other on the floor beside the bed before sitting on the floor with the blanket in hand.

“What are you doing?” Isaac leans over the side of the mattress, watching as Peter curls up on the floor with a pillow and blanket, looking completely out of place.

“Keeping an eye on you,” the response is warmed with amusement and something that Isaac thinks might be affection, “So if the dreams come back, I can at least wake you up before you destroy my down pillow.”

Isaac laughs, rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in the borrowed pillow, inhaling the scent that is purely Peter. As he feels himself drifting off, he lets one arm dangle off the edge of the bed, fingertips brushing the older man's shoulder.

“Maybe tomorrow night you can graduate to the bed,” Isaac chuckles, then drifts off into a safe, dream-free sleep.


End file.
